Settling In
by Chereche
Summary: Kurt's found a safe haven in Dalton, but, his fears drive a wrench into his friendship with Blaine. Will the Warbler be able to set things right before Kurt locks himself away from him entirely?


Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Summary: Kurt's found a safe haven in Dalton, but his fears drive a wrench into his friendship with Blaine. Will the Warbler be able to set things right before Kurt locks himself away from him entirely?

Warnings: AU. Character ages have been altered a bit.

* * *

It was easy to get lost in the sea of uniformity that was Dalton Academy. Everyone was dressed the same, and it gave me an anonymity that was absent at my previous school. It's Monday of the second week of my tenure here, and I can't help but smile a bit as I weave my way through the press of teenage boys pouring out of the various classrooms as the school day came to an end. Already I had improved. This time last week I would have been playing around in a classroom, taking my time to pack up my belongings in order to allow the throng of students to dissipate somewhat. The idea of walking through a crowd without being pushed or shoved had not settled yet. Today though, I had mustered up a bit of confidence.

But let's get back to the uniform for a bit; hey, you know it by now, I love clothes. The Dalton uniform had fascinated me from the first time I had seen it. Dapper grey pants, a navy blue blazer trimmed with red stripes, a crisp white shirt and a navy and red striped tie. It was perfect and was something I could easily see myself mimicking as a Halloween costume. Who needed the sexy school girl look when you could be a dapper school boy? But still, for all that I had admired the uniform, I really did not think that I would end up wearing one, and especially not five days a week. It did absolutely nothing for my fashion ambitions. Even now I know my clothes are probably crying out for my attention and I really wish Dalton at least allowed accessorising. But then again, I'm glad they don't. This way I won't stand out at all. The novelty of a new kid has already mostly faded. The school was large enough that only the juniors in my class really took stock of my arrival – and well, there was Blaine and the Warblers.

I frown as that last thought registers. I will be a Warbler soon, and then my anonymity will fade. Blaine hadn't been kidding when he said that the glee club members here were rock stars. I have seen it myself. Random high fives, guys wandering over to inquire over impromptu performances and song lists; those were just a few of the things I have observed so far. The glee club members are the popular kids here. The main difference between here and McKinley was the fact that they took their popularity in stride and were really nice and pleasant with everyone. I had yet to see a Warbler take a high-handed attitude toward anyone, but then again, I supposed even that would be constituted as a form of a bullying here. I'm not entirely sure. I haven't finished going through the school rule book. If, (or if Blaine had his way), _when_ I join the Warblers, I think that I'll be subject to a bit of that as well. I'm not sure if I can deal with it.

But that was still in the future. I'm not going to audition until next month. It was my choice to wait a bit. I don't think that I should jump head first into a club when I have so much work to get caught up on. It means missing out on Sectionals this weekend, but that's okay. I can't imagine the amount of work I would have had to put in to reach up to the rest of the group's level. Plus, if I'm completely honest, I would admit that I really don't want to have to face off against the New Directions so soon. Things are still a bit...weird between us, and I didn't need this to compound that.

Speaking of weird...I am still getting used to the fact that there weren't any girls at the school. Yes, technically it should make the place a veritable heaven for me (especially since there are so many good looking guys to ogle at), but in reality, I think it is only adding to my discomfort. I just don't know how to function around so many guys...around males as a whole. Hey now, don't look at me like that, I know it's ironic, but I can't help it. I've never been close to guys – honestly Blaine's my first real guy friend. Heck, Finn doesn't even count, and he's my step-brother! I've never hung out with guys; they never really like me, and so I make friends with girls. It was a bit awkward at first; girls always seem to be slightly distrustful of friendly guys at first. But once they see that I share the same interests than them, and that my knowledge of fashion and trends outweighs anything that can be found in a magazine, I'm welcomed into the fold with open arms.

Somehow I don't think anyone at Dalton is really interested in Vogue's upcoming issue...

Yes, I mean there are other things to talk about; I'm not only into 'girlish' things, but still, one can only talk about vehicles for so long before it becomes boring, and I absolutely abhor sports. And, as far as I know, that's all guys really talk about. Yes, I know, I'm missing out on something obvious huh? My height, has perfectly gelled hair, and a face so handsome you can just stare at it forever. No, I haven't forgotten about Blaine, how can I? He's my only real friend here. So, why exactly am I thinking about all these things when I have the perfect Warbler to keep my company? I don't want him to. No, don't look so shocked, we haven't had a falling out or anything like that. Our friendship is perfectly fine, and I know that Blaine is probably wondering where I am all now, but I can't go find him. I can't ask more of him than he already has given me.

Dalton is his place. I have no right to intrude into that. He's already been so nice to me, the least I can do is stay out of his way and give him the space he needs to be with his friends. I try to only be with him a few minutes a day for that reason. He insists on waiting to walk me to the Hall for breakfast, and I treasure the meal with him, but I always try to keep my distance for the rest of the day. He's a junior, I'm a sophomore, he's popular and cool, I'm just the new kid. He doesn't need me monopolising all of his time. He can come to me if he wants, but I won't approach him. And he has. Last Wednesday he came to my dorm room after dinner and spent a good hour or two with me, helping me with the math and physics problems that were beyond my comprehension. It's one of the downfalls of my transferring. McKinley's curriculum is actually ahead of Dalton in a few subjects, but woefully behind in others. It's just my luck that the latter case is true with my worst subjects. I just don't have a head for numbers. I was managing fine enough at McKinley – my grades in those subjects ranged between Bs and C+s, but here? If my first week was anything to go by, I would be lucky to pull a D on the bi-weekly quiz coming up.

It is why I am on my way to the library now. The librarian has proven most helpful and actually found me a few notebooks and student notes left behind by past students. They are a gold mine for me, and with the assistance of that, I am actually managing to wade my way through all that I need to know. I thank her cheerfully as she gives me the materials again, obviously having setting it aside for me. I love Dalton for that; the staff is so willing to assist. The woman actually patted my shoulder the last time I was in here, sympathising with me that it could not be easy to transfer halfway into the school term.

Clutching my things to me, I make my way to my favoured spot. I'm not entirely certain sitting on the ground is allowed, but I do it. With the majority of students claiming the tables and cubicles, I go mostly unnoticed in the back here, and I have more than enough space to spread my belongings out as I like. Popping my earphones into my ears and quickly pulling up the file for white noise, I quickly lose myself in the world of numbers and equations. By the time the alarm on my phone vibrates, a reminder that the library will be closing in fifteen minutes, my confidence has been boosted somewhat, and I think that I may actually pass that upcoming quiz.

I hesitate outside the library door. I've missed dinner and my stomach loudly protests against that fact. It's not really surprising that I'm this hungry. I'd only had a chicken salad for lunch, and I can't even remember if I actually finished it. I shrug dismissively after a moment. It's not the first time I've skipped a meal; I'll survive until morning. I start walking, glad for the fact that the hallways are mostly empty now and from a window, I see that everyone on the grounds are heading to the dormitory buildings. I speed up my steps a bit, remembering that everyone was expected to be in the buildings by a certain time. I can't exactly recall what time it is offhand, but it wouldn't do to be late.

My stomach rumbles again, and suddenly I remember that Finn had shoved a grocery bag into my hands yesterday evening as I had walked out of the house. I hadn't had the time to look at it, but I'm certain that it contained food. Whether it would be food to my liking was another story entirely, but still, if it quieted my stomach until morning, I would be content. Finally the dorm building comes into sight and I slow my steps back into a slow stroll. I'm glad, not for the first time, that I have a room to myself. There was an even number of boys in the building before me, and, so, until the next academic year at least, I am my own roommate. The privacy is a blessing, especially since I still have a few bruises left on me from my last few days at McKinley. It is a bit lonely though – I readily admit that, especially whenever I hear an outbreak of laughter from the room next to mines when they get a bit too loud. It would be nice to have someone to just goof around with. I am an only child, well, I used to be. Finn and I, once we had gotten over the majority of our differences, actually looked forward to living together, but then the death threat happened and I ended up here before we even got his things fully unpacked.

I hesitate again once I'm inside the building, pressing my back against the door as I hear the noise coming from the common room. It's not overwhelmingly loud; it's just that, with so many individual conversations occurring at once, the volume tended to rise a bit. It wasn't unpleasant though – welcoming actually. But still, I feel a bit hollow knowing that I'm not a part of it. Oh, Blaine had tried to include me. My first night was spent with him in my room helping me unpack. The second night he had gently grasped my elbow, pulling me from my room into his, where a few of the other Warblers were already gathered. From what I've seen, his bedroom is a pretty popular spot for them, but, even though I had fun, firmly ensconced by his side, with his hand rubbing my back absently throughout the night, I hadn't ventured there since. Like I said, those guys are _his_ friends. He deserves to have time alone with them. Blaine hasn't pressured me about it though; it's easy for anyone to see that I'm bogged down with work. He's offered to help though, roping in Wes and David as well, but I refused. I have to do this on my own.

What? I'm stubborn that way.

* * *

From the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of someone all but darting up the curved stairway that leads to the dormitory rooms. I'm quite certain it's Kurt – the person I've been looking out for that entire afternoon. My friends notice my sudden distraction and follow my look.

"That's Kurt, isn't it?" Nick asks.

We're seated near to the unlit fireplace. It's our usual spot when we hang out in the common room. More importantly, it's fully visible from the doorway into the building. I'm certain Kurt must have seen us, so why didn't he come over?

"It was," I reply, well aware that I'm frowning now.

I couldn't help it. He'd been on my mind the entire day. I missed him. I haven't seen him since he had hurried away from the breakfast table that morning, anxious not to get lost and thus be late. Now, there was no need for that concern. I'd have asked a Warbler to ensure that he got there on time, but no, my stubborn boy had rushed off before I'd gotten a word in edgewise. I hadn't seen him at lunch, but I hadn't worried too much. I'd looked at his schedule. There was a mini-cafeteria near to the building he had his morning classes in. More than likely, he had grabbed lunch there with a few friends. But he hadn't turned up after class, and I did tell him where I would be. I'd shrugged it off again; maybe he had gone to the library or was with some friends? It wasn't as if I could expect him to spend his every free moment with me after all, even if it was what I wanted. But when dinner time had come and gone with still no sign of him, I had gotten worried. Only the reassurance that he was in Dalton and hence safe, saved me from going out to look for him. I cursed myself for forgetting my phone at home that weekend. I could have called him to find out where he was. Or maybe he had tried to get a hold of me? I don't think I told him that I wouldn't have my phone for the week due to my carelessness. Maybe he had texted, not gotten me and was now mad? I nip my lip, a sure sign to those who knew me that I was worried about something.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Nick inquires.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Are you fighting?" he repeats.

"No. Why would we be?" I say, a bit defensively.

Wes answers me. "Kurt looked this way, saw you, and sped up Blaine. Plus he hasn't been near you at all today. It's a logical conclusion."

"Well, we aren't," I reply, although my tone isn't entirely certain. Was Kurt really avoiding me?

The guys notice my uncertainty, and Wes hurries to assure me that all was not wrong with the world. I find my lips quirking despite the situation. Wes never could handle anyone being unhappy. It was why he had attached himself to me when I had first arrived in Dalton. I had been hesitant at first, but with his persistence, we soon became great friends.

"Besides," Wes continues, "it might not even have anything to do with you. Something could just be bothering him..."

"That's more reason for him to come to me," I interrupt, a hint of petulance entering my tone.

My friends chuckle, and I find myself shifting in my seat to allow David to drop down beside me. "What are we gossiping about tonight ladies?" he asks, draping his arm around my shoulders.

I smack him playfully, even as Nick responds. "We're trying to figure out what's wrong with Kurt."

"Something's wrong with our Warbler-to-be?"

"We think so," Nick answers. "He's avoiding Blaine but Blaine hasn't done anything to upset him, so now we're trying to figure out what may be wrong with him."

"Did he have a bad day?"

"I wouldn't know," I grumble. "The last time I saw him was at breakfast remember?"

David shrugs, "I was texting Emily whole day."

"You're lucky Mrs Hamilton didn't confiscate your phone during History," Wes points out.

"She can't resist my charm," he grins, before looking at me. "So, basically, Kurt is avoiding you, you don't know why, and instead of just going up to him and asking, you're down here speculating with us?"

I look away in embarrassment. "It seems silly when you put it that way," I admit.

"I am the voice of reason," David teases, although he tightens his grip on my shoulders when I make to move away from him. "Not so fast Blainers."

"What?"

"What exactly are you going up there to say to him?"

"..."

"I thought so."

"So we've established that the most probable cause of this is him having a bad day," David states, as if he's been in the discussion from the start. "So, who can we ask about this?"

We stare at each other blankly for a moment. We're all juniors and seniors so it's not like Kurt's in any of our classes. Wes looks around, before calling out to his cousin who's seated on a window seat with a few other sophomores.

"Oye, James, come here a sec."

The blond comes over to us, and sits on the arm of Wes' chair. "Yes Wes?"

"You had class with Kurt Hummel today right?" he asks without preamble.

"The new kid? Yeah, he's in all of my classes...well for now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand sharply.

James shrugs. "He's really great with languages. He finished our French assignment in half the time and ended up having a conversation with Mademoiselle for the rest of the time. She said that she'll make a proficiency test for him, but from what I've seen it's almost guaranteed that he'll be upgraded to the Junior French class, if not the Senior one."

"Wow," Nick breathes.

"He's way ahead in Literature as well," James continues. "He's already read all the books for the year and some of the ones on the Junior list. Last Friday, Mr. Manson asked him for copies of the essays and stuff he did at his last school to see if he'd do okay in the Junior class. It's the same for English."

Wes whistled appreciatively. "McKinley must have an excellent Humanities programme."

"Kurt was in those AP classes," I respond, both elated and disappointed by what had been revealed. I had the right to be. If Kurt got moved up, there was a possibility that he would end up in some of my classes. That would be so awesome. However, there was the fact that all of this had happened _last week _and I knew absolutely nothing about it bothered me tremendously. Why hadn't Kurt told me any of this?

Wes seems to notice my increasingly sour mood, because he hurries to change the topic. "We didn't bring you here to talk about his academics Jamie. Did you notice anything odd in his behaviour today?"

"I wouldn't know Wes," he admits. "I don't really know what is normal for him, far less odd. It's not like he talks to anyone."

That drags me from my thoughts. "He doesn't talk to anyone?" I repeat.

"Not really," he states. "I mean, if we say something to him, he'll answer. But other than that, he sticks to himself. Chester and Charles tried talking to him at lunch the other day, but he left them after barely a minute."

My moroseness starts to fade as concern takes its place. If what James is saying is true, Kurt doesn't have any friends. So where on earth does he go during his free time, and why does he not come to me or any of the other Warblers for that matter? They'd take care of him, if only as a favour to me.

"Have you ever seen him with anyone since he got here James?" I press.

He shakes his head. "No one other than you Blaine. I'm sorry Wes," he finishes, looking down at his cousin. "I should have looked out for him."

"It's okay Jamie," he reassures. "Go back to your friends now okay?"

"Okay. I'll keep a better eye on him tomorrow. I promise."

"Thanks kiddo," he says, before turning to me when he leaves us. "Talk to us Blaine."

I don't know what to say. So much has been revealed by that conversation and none of it particularly encouraging. It seems like Kurt has closed himself off from everyone at Dalton, and not just me. But the question is, why? Kurt was naturally friendly. Once he had realised that I meant him no harm after our first meeting, he had opened up to me. Within a few days I felt as if he had always been a presence in my life. I had thought that transferring here would just compound that. Instead, he had built a wall around himself and I wanted back in.

"I need to talk to him," I mutter finally. "Find out what's wrong, why he's avoiding me."

"Does anyone else think the latter is the most important?" Nick asks, before snorting when they all raise their hands.

"Huh?"

"Nothing Blaine," Wes says. "Don't let us delay you. Go play counsellor with Kurt."

Although his tone is teasing, I detect a bit of concern in Wes' eyes. He's almost as protective of Kurt as I am, if only because he knows how important the boy is to me. I give him a small nod before gently removing the arm around me. "Thanks guys," I say sincerely as I rise. "You're the best."

"And that's why you're going to bring us some of Nathalie's homemade cookies next week!"

I roll my eyes but nod. My housekeeper loves my friends. It won't take much to get her to make them something. "See you in the morning guys," I say, leaving them.

Despite what I said to them, I don't go straight to Kurt's room. Instead I fling myself down on my bed for a while, covering my eyes as I process everything that I've learnt that night and reflect on Kurt's tenure at Dalton in its entirety. The more I think the angrier I become at myself for not noticing something was wrong with him, and then at him for not trusting me enough to come to me. I stay on my bed a while longer until that anger fades to mild irritation. I have a temper – a terrible one at that, and it's definitely not something Kurt needs to see, especially now. When I am as calm as I ever would be, I go to him, prepared to get answers from him.

* * *

The first thing I did when I reached the safety of my bedroom was to shower, and slip into some of _my_ clothes. Yes, it was only pyjamas, but still, I am certain that no one else here had them, and I am very proud of that fact. I settle on my bed, pulling my expandable product kit to me. I can't help but smile as it unfolds itself and my things come into view. There was nothing more relaxing than rubbing the cool, slightly tingling creams into my skin. It was a good way to relieve the tension of the day. My mind wanders as my fingers rub automatically. I had had a lucky break downstairs. Blaine had been distracted by something Wes was saying, so he hadn't seen me. He had looked so happy and contented down there. I knew that I had done the right thing in giving him his privacy.

Once I was done, and the kit put away, I dig out one of my favourite Literature novels. I pause after a chapter to send my parents a good night text, before I delve back into the world of nineteenth century England. I was cheating myself a bit. I had read this book a dozen times, and, if my conversation with Mr. Manson was to be believed, I wouldn't see it until I entered the Junior class...which if the looks he had shot me today was anything to go by, would be soon enough. I would be better off going over the notes I had made in the library, or even plunging ahead with my readings for Politics and Geography. But I have a light day tomorrow. I'm glad that I chose Music and Art as my electives. Music was a breeze given my history, and while McKinley had never quite gone so in-depth into art history, the material was interesting enough to keep my attention without much effort. Anyway, given that I have those two things tomorrow, I could more than afford to take a study break now.

I'd have to sit down with dad for a long conversation once the teachers figure out what they were going to do with me. I could easily test out of French but I am not certain if I should score as high as I know I can. I'd started learning the language as a child, inspired by some movie I had seen. It'd been a good distraction from Mom's death as well, so by the time I had actually encountered the language in a classroom, my proficiency in it was well beyond what was expected. French classes were actually a bore for me by the time I entered high school, but I never ventured beyond it since the class had hardly had jocks. Apparently German and Spanish were more manly...I'd never understand them. I shake my head to dispel the memory. It'd be a lot easier for me to just get exempted from French with credit for the rest of my tenure at Dalton. I could certainly use the free period, but, I am only so bogged down with work because of my transfer. Would my workload still be as hectic once I settled down or would I actually find myself with too much free time? If that was the case I could pick up a third elective, or join a second club.

Decisions, decisions.

All in all, I really wasn't paying the book much attention. Minutes later, that proved to be a good thing.

My book nearly slips out of my fingers when someone raps on my door, rather forcefully. I sit up, eyeing it curiously for a few seconds, before calling for whoever it was to enter. I'm quite certain they have the wrong room. After all, who would want to talk to me? Blaine apparently. My eyes widen as he steps in the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He's dressed a bit differently from downstairs. His blazer had just been unbuttoned then, but now it's completely absent, alongside the tie. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and he'd rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. He looked hotter than usual and I find myself hurriedly shifting my gaze away even as a small flush heats up my face. A big mistake. Looking down reminds me that I am in nothing more than pyjamas and I curl my fingers in my sheets, feeling entirely vulnerable. He's never seen me in such a state, and somehow, it makes me feel like he's in a bit of a superior position to me at the moment. That thought is compounded when he leans casually against the door, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes though – there's an emotion in them I cannot entirely read, and it unnerves me a bit.

"B-Blaine?" I say, before swallowing at how...uncertain I sound.

It's not my fault though. He shouldn't be here, especially while looking like that. He should be with his friends downstairs.

"We need to talk Kurt."

My heart skips a beat. His tone is far from warm and comforting. That compounded with his unreadable expression worries me.

"Is something wrong?"

Blaine doesn't answer for a long moment, but instead shoots me a look that plainly states that I should know what he is referring to. But I don't, and I hope the expression on my face conveys that to him. He sighs, and briefly pinches the bridge of his nose before crossing the room to me. I scoot back a bit when he drops down on the bed besides me, surprised by his close proximity. Given the setting, it is a rather intimate position, but romance (hey, I can imagine!) seems to be the last thing on his mind.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

I nod automatically, my brows crinkling a bit. What an odd question.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Why are you asking?"

He disregards my question, reaching out to place a hand on my leg. I barely restrain a squeak as he starts running his hand up and down it, in a rather absentminded way as if he doesn't really realise what he is doing. I am well aware though. The warmth I am feeling seeps through my being, straight into my heart.

"I didn't see you at lunch today," he states, eyeing me carefully. I want to look away, his gaze is too penetrative, but that hand briefly squeezes down on me, and I reluctantly keep my gaze steady. "You weren't at dinner."

"I ate lunch on the grounds," I answer quickly, "and I got something from the same place this afternoon."

"The place that closes after lunch?" he asks mildly, his hand freezing.

I swallow. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I lie like that? He knows Dalton better than me. Of course he'd catch the discrepancy. Besides, the remnants of my dinner – a muffin and a pudding cup – are still on my desk and I realise now that he's seen it.

"I don't appreciate being lied to Kurt."

An edge of steel enters his voice, and an emotion briefly flashes across his face. His fingers flex warningly as well, and I look down, feeling thoroughly chastened by that one sentence. What is it about Blaine that is making me feel this way, I wonder, even as I mumble an apology. I've never seen him like this. His entire frame exudes authority, and I am somewhat cautious because of it. I'm in no way afraid of him though. No matter his current mood, I know he won't hurt me.

"Shall we try again then?" he invites graciously.

I lick my lips. "I did eat lunch on the grounds Blaine," I tell him. "I spent my afternoon in the library. I only left once closing time was near. I ate up here."

He hums in approval, and the hand starts stroking once again. It's a bit funny I suppose that I can tell his reactions to my words by the way his hand moves.

"And who were you with?" he inquires next.

Where exactly was he going with this line of questioning? I hesitate; he would be worried if he knew the truth.

"I was with a couple of sophomores, oh!" I end with a gasp as his fingers abruptly dig into my flesh. It isn't painful; it's just that the speed of which he does it surprises me. But it is his gaze that bothers me the most. I recognise that previously unidentifiable emotion. Blaine is angry, and from the looks of it, at me.

"I won't say it again Kurt," he states, in dangerous low tones. "I do not appreciate being lied to. Don't make me have to remind you a third time hmm?"

There's a warning edge to those words, and I hurriedly nod. "I wasn't with anyone," I admit.

"In the library?" he presses.

"For the whole day," I correct, dropping my gaze entirely.

"You didn't want to spend any time with your friends?"

"I-". What am I supposed to say to that? Blaine will definitely worry if I tell him the truth, but lying is out of the question. I make a small sound of frustration. It's a no win situation. I glance up, and see Blaine eyeing me expectantly. It hits me then. He knows. I don't know how, but somehow he knows that I don't have any friends here. He's calling me out on it, but still, why the anger?

I end up saying nothing and only stare intently down into my lap, waiting for whatever Blaine wants to do. I can't bring myself to say the words; I can only sit here and berate myself for not managing to do this one simple thing and not bother Blaine. A wave of self loathing rises within me and seconds later I close my eyes as I feel them sting with the onset of tears. Blaine seems to notice my growing distress because I feel the bed shift with his movement before my upper body is pulled forward. I squeak in surprise as my head lands against his shoulder, but it takes only seconds for my hands to reach up and grip his shirt as I feel a hand running down my back, while the next plays with my hair.

He's murmuring words to me, soft words that belie the anger I know he is feeling. But it works. The position offers me comfort and slowly I regain control. I am mildly impressed. This is the first time someone's actually managed to stop me from crying. Blaine seems to sense when I am capable of speech once again because he gently pushes me back, before gripping my chin carefully and raising it so I have no choice but to look at him.

"I've been quite hard on you if you're reacting so," he murmurs, although I note that there is not an ounce of remorse in his voice.

"You don't appreciate being lied to," I respond, with a soft sniff.

My words cause his lips to quirk slightly in amusement, but the sternness in his eyes remains constant. I'm aware of the reason now. I've been lying to him since my arrival at Dalton. I've lied about being happy; I've lied about having friends. I only now remember, but I did spend a lot of time last week exaggerating my encounters with students so that he got the impression that I was integrating well with them.

"All I've been doing is lying to you," I say. "It's no wonder you're so cross with me."

"Care to elaborate?"

I do. Consequences and my desires be dammed, I know I have to speak, or else I run the risk of angering him further. I don't want that at all, and so, I speak. By the end of it, a few tears have slipped down my face, and he's long since released me, allowing me to look down and speak, because it's easier for me to do.

"I'm sorry Blaine," I finish weakly.

"Whatever am I going to do with you?" he huffs eventually.

His voice is warm though, and almost normal. I am surprised and look up to see _my_ Blaine regarding me, not the strict young man I've been hesitantly answering for a while now.

"I-"

"You're a dummy Kurt," he declares, grasping my arms and shaking me a bit. "How could you think that I do not want you with me? It's half the reason I'm angry with you; you were avoiding _me_. Do you know how I felt watching you bypassing me entirely earlier? Yes Kurt, I did see you. I thought you were mad at me, and then I find out that you've been spending all of your free time alone. You can't do this Kurt. I told you I would protect you and you do this instead? Do you _want_ to be miserable? Dalton's your chance to start over. A new beginning without all of the crap you've had to deal with and I'm supposed to make that happen. I want to be with you through this Kurt!"

A few tears slip loose at the honesty in his tone, but this time he reaches out to brush them away.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, for the umpteenth time since he's come in here. I'm an emotional wreck at the moment – well maybe that's a slight exaggeration. What is true though is that I'm feeling so many things, happiness, hope, sadness and guilt. It's an exhausting combination, and I blink in surprise when a heavy lethargy descends upon me.

"You're tired," he states abruptly, rising.

"Blaine-"

"It's okay Kurt," he interrupts, in a business like tone, as he crosses to the spare bed and takes up a hand towel. "Turn down the bed," he bids as he disappears into the bathroom.

I stare after him before following his request, standing awkwardly besides it by the time he re-emerges. Surely he didn't mean for me to...oh, he did.

He grasps my chin again, lifting my face so that he can dab at it with the wet cloth. I'm grateful he does not scrub at my skin. I'm not entirely certain all of the moisturizers have been absorbed.

"Much more presentable," he notes with a quirky smile.

"Glad you approve," I throw back.

"Into bed now," he commands, and, although I flush a bit as my mind supplies other meanings to his utterance, I obey him, sitting awkwardly on it.

"Really Kurt?" he asks, arching a brow at me.

My flush deepens, but I heed the unspoken request and recline against my pillow.

"Good boy," he whispers, as he brings the covers up over me, and I avert my eyes. I can't believe that Blaine is actually tucking me in, and doing quite a good job at it. By the time he's done fiddling with the blankets, I am snugly secured. He sits beside me once again, and his hand presses itself against my forehead. "Do you have any homework due tomorrow?"

"Fine time to ask," I retort.

"Kurt," he begins, in that stern voice.

"I finished it already."

"Good. Then this is what is going to happen. You are going to sleep now. It's barely nine, but that is fine, since I will be coming here a bit early in the morning. We will talk some more, and then we will go about our day. You will join me for lunch – you _do not_ want me to come looking for you. Since you won't join the Warblers yet, I'll have to leave you alone for a bit after classes are done, but you'll meet me for dinner where I'll reintroduce you to a few people. Then we'll come right back here and do our homework together and just talk until bedtime, okay?"

"That's not fair to you," I whisper.

"What is not fair is the fact that you are putting my needs before yours Kurt. Besides, you don't know my friends like I do. Within an hour, they'll be barging in here anyway. I won't be neglecting them, and I won't be neglecting you. Now, do you understand?"

"I've never seen this side of you before," I admit, ignoring his question for now.

"There are many sides to me that you've yet to see Kurt," he tells me, his eyes darkening slightly.

"I trust you."

His lips soften in a smile and I find my breath fastening a bit as he leans down to kiss my cheek. He lingers, his eyes mere inches from mines, before he chuckles and pulls back.

"Close your eyes now," he bids. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"Like a good parent," I snicker, if only to hide my reaction from that kiss.

"Well I was thinking more along the lines of an older brother, but I won't protest if you want to call me papa."

I guffaw at the cheesy look Blaine shoots me, before shaking off the hand still on my forehead, to turn on my side. "Good night _papa_."

"Good night Kurt," he returns, and the last thing I feel before I succumb to sleep, is him carding his fingers through my hair.

* * *

A/N: This will be a collection of one-shots or short multi-chapters stories.


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